


Chateau

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Beach Episode, Consent discussions, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: In the evening, they went swimming. His prosthetic was waterproof, of course, but the damp made the joint ache. So Akande wrapped his shoulder up and left the prosthetic in the chateau. He followed Amélie as far out as he could, and then, when he could not tread water any longer, he retreated to where he could stand on his tip toes in the sand and watched her as best he could against the beginnings of the sunset. When he regained his strength he would swim out to her, then retreat, and so on until Amélie announced that it was time for dinner.





	Chateau

“I’m glad you were able to come,” Amélie said. “Reyes made some terrible excuse. And it seemed ridiculous to have a house this large so empty all the time. I’m glad someone finally came.”

Akande took a sip of sangria. “Reyes made a mistake,” he said. “This is a good retreat.”

She gave him a half-smile, a tilt of one side of her mouth, the most he had ever seen her do. “It wasn’t always,” she said. “I’m the first Guillard to own this in quite some time.”

“Oh?”

“My family lost it in the revolution,” she said. She looked out across the veranda, at the thickets that must have at one point been gardens, and the stony beach beyond them. “It seems fitting we would get it back in the midst of another one.”

“I’m glad we could help.”

“Ha.” She raised her glass. “To revolution.”

Akande raised his as well, and they drank.

-

In the evening, they went swimming. His prosthetic was waterproof, of course, but the damp made the joint ache. So Akande wrapped his shoulder up and left the prosthetic in the chateau. He followed Amélie as far out as he could, and then, when he could not tread water any longer, he retreated to where he could stand on his tip toes in the sand and watched her as best he could against the beginnings of the sunset. When he regained his strength he would swim out to her, then retreat, and so on until Amélie announced that it was time for dinner.

She had staff present to cook for them, of course. And Akande imagined she had other help as well. But Amélie still sat down next to him to help him reattach his prosthetic.

“I can do it myself,” he told her.

“I know,” she said. “But it will be faster this way.” He did not argue with her, for the most part because he was tired from the swim.

“You lost your arm in the aftermath of the crisis,” she said, as the base of the prosthetic locked in to his armpit.

“Was that a question?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “How did you lose your arm?” She elaborated when he frowned. “I know there were different security firms operating at the time, alongside national armies. And Overwatch, of course. Who did you fight for?”

“No one,” he said. She waited for him to continue, one hand holding the prosthetic to his joint and the other on his shoulder.

“I didn’t enlist anywhere,” he said. “I wanted to continue competing in tournaments. I had a good life before the crisis, and I was wealthy enough that I did not think I needed to change it. I lost it when a bomb went off in traffic. My driver died. I was lucky and stupid.”

She nodded. He felt her squeeze his shoulder gently.

“I was too,” she said softly. “I danced during the aftermath.”

“You did,” he said, surprised. “What else do you remember?” Her face went blank and her eyes were glazed. “Amélie. I won’t make you do anything. I just want to know.”

That seemed to be enough to make her focus on him, slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I won’t send you back to reconditioning.”

“But they told me I should.”

“I don’t agree with them.” His prosthetic whirred and clicked into place, and he curled his fingers, testing them. “They’re trying to limit how much you struggle with yourself, Amélie. But you cannot become stronger if you do not struggle. They’re limiting your potential by pacifying you, and I don’t agree with it.”

“But I don’t know what happens, with the remembering. It’s… frustrating.” The haze began to creep back to her eyes.

“Well,” he said. “I meant what I said. I won’t make you do anything.”

She hesitated, then nodded again and stood up. She offered him her hand and he took it and let her help him up. He expected her to turn and head to the veranda but instead she stood there and put her other hand on his waist and laced their fingers together.

“Amélie.” She did not meet his eyes. “Not yet.”

She looked up at him. “Yet?”

“When you’ve decided.”

“Why?” Her frustration was apparent now, even though her face remained neutral. He put his hand on top of Amélie’s on his waist, his prosthetic hand on top of her too-cool one.

“I don’t want someone who isn’t sure.”

She let go of him and turned on her heel. “Dinner is ready,” she said, her voice clipped.

He followed her.

-

At dinner, the haze returned, and Amélie made polite conversation and avoided Akande’s eyes. He ate and watched her until they both had become silent.

“If it’s alright with you, I have some work I would like to get done this evening,” she said, when their plates had been cleared.

“Of course.”

He went back to his room and sat on the edge of his bed and looked around. The room was crisper than the ones that Amélie had touched, very obviously unlived in. He had his own work he could be doing, of course, but one of the few pieces of furniture was a bookshelf and he was curious. He took out one book, a heavy, leather-bound thing, and opened it. The pages were blank. It was decorative. He worked his way down the shelves, trying to find a real book. At the bottom shelf, he finally found a hardcover with a plastic jacket. _La Révolution Française: Une Histoire_. He remembered what Amélie had said earlier and snorted.

He lay down on the bed and opened it. He read for several hours, until he heard a knock on the door.

He got up and opened it. Amélie was there, wearing a long silk robe and leaning heavily on the door frame.

“I want to go back to the base,” she announced. Akande blinked.

“Why?”

“I want the reconditioning. I want to forget again.”

She smelled like wine and she was gripping the door frame hard. “We can go tomorrow,” he said. She lifted her head up, seemingly with much effort, and glared at him.

“No. I want to go now. Before it’s too much to forget.”

“I think you should wait, Amélie.”

“I don’t care what you think,” she said. She gave up the ghost and slid down, until she was sitting on the floor, her robe puddled around her. “You want me to struggle. I don’t. I’m tired. I’m already the best in the world at what I do. It’s enough. I don’t need any more.”

He knelt down next to her. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right.” She closed her eyes. “Let’s go, then.”

He stood up and she remained seated. “Amélie,” he said softly.

She shuddered violently and Akande saw tears leak from her hazy eyes.

“Amélie. You can do whatever you like. I’ll be here either way.”

Her facial muscles twitched and she clasped her hands to her mouth. He put his hand on her shoulder and she curled into herself.

After a minute, she took her hand away. “I don’t want to forget,” she said.

“Okay.”

“But I don’t want a lot of things.”

“I know.”

“I want you, though.”

He squeezed her shoulder gently. “Not yet.”

“Of course,” she said drily. She looked behind him. “Can I stay here, tonight? At least?”

“Yes.” He stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and he led her to bed. She fell asleep as he was taking off his prosthetic, and so he was careful when he lay down next to her. Her lack of warmth was strange at first, but he fell asleep soon.

-

She was awake when he woke up, and reading his book. She looked over at him as he sat up. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he said. Sunlight was coming in from the small window near the top of the wall. He had not slept this late in a long time. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Not particularly well,” she said. “Now, are you ready?”

He looked over at her. She did look in some kind of bad shape, somehow even paler than usual and with dark circles under her eyes. But her eyes were clear and he could see impatience in the set of her mouth.

“Yes,” he said.

She smiled and set the book aside. She climbed on top of him and kissed him eagerly, and put her hand back on his waist and dug her nails in. He ran a hand down her back and she shivered.

She pulled back slightly. “Don’t stop,” she said, almost urgent. “I want this.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I want this too.”

She kissed him again, gentler this time, and then let go of him to undo her robe.

-

Several days later, they stood at the curb as their driver put their luggage in the trunk of the Bentley.

“They’ll want to recondition you when you get back,” Akande said. The driver held open the door to the backseat and he slid in behind Amélie.

“I know,” she said.

“I can speak to Maximilien when we return to base, if you’d like.”

“No,” she said. “I can take care of it myself.”

“Yes, you can.”

The Bentley pulled away from the curb and drove out the chateau’s gates. Akande watched Amélie watch her home slide out of view.

“Are we going to continue this, when we return?” she asked. Akande smiled.

“If you’d like.”

“I would.” She turned to face him. “But I was wondering if it would cause problems for you.”

He took her hand. “We can take care of it.”

“Yes,” she said. “We can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly that whole segment of Masquerade... what kind of power couple.
> 
> My tumblr is @tacticalgrandma, if you want to talk to me there.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


End file.
